Sith among Jedi
by johntheanimefan
Summary: What's in a name? For Jameson Taleron, much. Indeed, for how can there not, when the name of your race is also deemed to be your morality? that is his sad lot, as a Sith Pureblood. For your consideration, a series of short vignettes detailing the life of Sith Pureblood Jedi Knight Jameson Taleron. And his relationship to kindred spirit Kira Carsen.
1. preparedness

**Hello everyone, new swtor story for ya, born out of my frustration with this fandom's inability to produce any substantial amount of fan content XD. If you're a fan of my other work, I'm gonna warn you now, these are not gonna be my usual length of chapters. These are short vignettes, detailing the life of this jedi, the chapters will be as long as the particular story is. So, let's get to it.**

Jameson wasn't prepared for anything he faced on Tython. He wasn't prepared for the surprising embrace of most of the order upon first meeting, despite him being a sith pureblood. He had become so accustomed to having to explain up and down to everyone he met that no, he wasn't a sleeper agent from the Empire come to convert them to galactic communism or some such nonsense. Being not only welcomed the minute he was off the shuttle but _trusted_ with important tasks by a Master was such an alien experience for the young man that he was left at a loss for how to react.

He wasn't prepared for Master Orgus Din, whom he felt a particular connection to almost immediately. Orgus must have felt that connection as well, for not an hour into knowing each other, Jameson was brought under Orgus's wing.

Jameson wasn't prepared to face a fallen Jedi so early in his career. And one so close to his former master, no less. Bengel Morr practically danced circles around him their first meeting, taunting his inexperience while tossing him like a salad. But Jameson refused to falter. This man threatened the safety of the order, which made him an enemy.

But the one thing he was least prepared for was one woman: Kira Carsen. Like with Master Orgus, there was nary a hint of distrust in her eyes when they first met. In that short interaction, she treated him like any other. Oh, she teased him for overdoing it with the force sensitive flesh raider, but he got the sense that she was just the teasing sort. Jameson had a tendency to get attached to people who treated him as an equal despite his race, and that was no different here. In fact, as much as Jameson knew it to be taboo, he began to fall in love.

And nothing could've prepared him for that.


	2. Knight of a Fallen Republic

5 years.

Frozen in carbonite. For 5 years.

And in those five years, the entire galaxy had gone to hell in a decorative handbasket. Lana Beniko had yet to tell him exactly how, but they did just stop a city from exploding and then crash a spaceship into a swamp, so Jameson gave her some time to get her bearings. To say nothing of his need for bearings. Thank the force Lana's new boyfriend (she said he wasn't, but he totally was) Koth had found an old crashed starship they could hide in. Jameson needed a rest. His head fell into his hands and didn't leave for at least two hours.

His mind immediately jumped to Kira. T7, in the short exchange they managed before he had to run off, said that he had no idea where Kira was. He knew she was alive (he'd have felt it if she was dead) but wherever she was was so far away that he couldn't get any reading on her. And Lana had no idea either, even after 5 years and a small army of spies.

Jameson dropped from his seat to his knees, assuming a meditative position. Koth, meanwhile, was helping Lana and HK move some equipment into the room. "Really? I know it's been a long day, but now isn't the time for a nap."

"He isn't napping, Koth," Lana corrected. "He's reaching out through the force."

"What's he looking for?" Koth asked.

"Not what, who," Jameson said, furrowing his brow. "And I would appreciate it if you two gave me some peace and quiet."

"Apologies," Lana replied. She and Koth returned to moving the equipment, while HK became distracted by a herd of cute, innocent, explodable bunnies.

Jameson reached out for Kira through the force. With anyone else, this would've been futile, but Jameson and Kira shared a connection deeper than just Master and Padawan. And that connection was still there. It was faint, but it just needed some waking up. Jameson felt for her, focusing on all the things he remembered about his wife. The scent of her hair; tatooine desert lilies mixed with korriban black roses, a combination that always danced across his senses. Her wonderful laugh whenever he mocked an enemy or playfully balked at authority. Her incomparable wit and sarcasm, able to turn any situation humorous when she needed to. And yet, nothing. Absolutely nothing. The connection was there, but something was keeping him from going all the way through. The more he tried, the more frustrated he became.

Koth broke him from his concentration by placing a bowl of crudely cooked food in front of him. "You've been at it for an hour, man," he said. "Whoever you're looking for, I think they'd prefer you eat." Jameson wanted to return to meditating. Five years, he needed her to know he was alright. But he just couldn't resist the smell of boiled gruel any longer. Half a decade without a meal made even Koth start to smell like a full course feast. "Don't even think about it." Wait, could he read his mind? "No, but I can see you drooling. Now eat your gruel like the rest of us."

Jameson ate quietly, and remained quiet through most of the night. He would cycle between going back to reaching out for Kira, and pacing the room in frustration. Lana eventually dragged him out of the ship to look for more supplies to get it up and running again. During which she informed him of what had been happening while he was gone. The Republic and the Empire were still around, but had been significantly defanged. Rather than unite against the new found common enemy, however, they turned to striking at each other from the shadows. Meanwhile the "Eternal Empire" bled the galaxy dry of resources and credits, keeping everyone divided and angry at the wrong people to maintain the illusion that the galaxy didn't have a new lord and master.

And somewhere in this mess was his crew, his family. It was a relief at least to know T7 was alive and well, and Jameson was confident that he could take care of himself, even in the Zakuul capital. Unfortunately, the rest of his family were still out there somewhere. And the fact that he couldn't get any kind of bead on Kira's energy wasn't doing his nerves any favors. Lana assured him again that her spies would find her, and Jameson believed her, but that did nothing to stop his doubt.

They returned to the starship, successful in their supply run, to find Koth had gotten several of the rooms on the ship up and running again. The hallways hummed and crackled with life, light filled the rusted and messy corridors, and old worker droids shook and sparked back to life. "Now then," Koth said to his new ramshackle crew. "Let's get this place cleaned up." The droids saluted, and then three of them fell apart. The rest got to work. Koth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, better than nothing."

"Koth," Lana said as she and Jameson walked in. "We found the supplies we need."

"Think this'll be enough?" asked Jameson.

Koth smiled up at Jameson. "Friend, gimme an afternoon, it'll be like she never crashed at all." Koth's smile then dropped and his hand rubbed the back of his neck. "Also, I uh, got the holomail system on this ship up and running. Wanted to do you a favor, so I logged in your name-crappy password by the way-and, well…"Koth stepped aside and gestured to the holomail terminal behind him. "You want to look at it."

Jameson looked between Koth and the terminal before slowly making his way over to it. Koth hurried Lana out of the room. "We should leave him be for a sec," he told her. Jameson sat on a nearby broken vent shaft and pressed the activation button for the terminal. The terminal flickered and sputtered to life, bringing up five years' worth of mail for him. Spam, MIA reports, messages from various allies in the republic and even the empire, but one stuck out to him more than any of them. A message from Kira. From four years ago.

FROM: Kira

SUBJECT: I know you're alive

Happy anniversary. As of today, you've been missing for a whole year. You beat your old record from the emperor's fortress. Everyone's given you up for dead except me. Thing is, I'd feel it if you died. The connection we made is too strong to just break apart. I've spent hundreds of hours meditating—trying to find you. All I get is a big nothing where you used to be. That can't be right.

Did you find him out there? Did you fall to him again? Sometimes, I dream that you're standing in my doorway, but you're not you anymore. You're him.

Everything's gone wrong since you left. The Republic is giving up to the invaders. Nobody can tell me what happened to Master Satele. The jedi order is dying and I can't save it. I couldn't even keep our crew together.

You have to come back.

Jameson didn't know when he started crying, but he only noticed it after he had read the last word. Four years ago she was still convinced he was alive, but what of now? Was she even still alive? Such questions and many more raced through Jameson at top speed, as his emotions spiraled out of control.

After several minutes of weeping, he got control of himself, took a deep breath, and stood up. He closed the terminal and pulled his hood over his head. Lana and Koth, T7 and HK, they were counting on him. He needed to be the leader they needed, or all of this would be for nothing. So, he turned around, and walked back out to find his new comrades. Silently, he vowed to find Kira, no matter what.

 _I'm back Kira,_ he thought to himself, _I'm back._


	3. Thinking of you, wherever you are

They had assembled an army from across the empire and republic both. They had a massive base on a hidden planet situated on the eternal empire's doorstep with no one the wiser. They were gathering some of the most famous men and women from both sides into their ranks; Aric Jorgan, Torian Cadera, Qyzen Fess, just to name a few.

But nothing was as satisfying as when the alliance sprung their latest surprise on Jameson: they got him his ship back! Jameson nearly welled up with tears as he saw his old ship, the Defender, looking like it had just come off the assembly line, fly over the mountains and land on a landing pad nearby. "Not only did we fix her up," said Theron Shan to his left. "We upgraded all the internal systems-while backing up all your old files and programs of course-retooled the flux capacitor, and added heated seats. That's my personal touch." Someone had obviously told Theron that there was an open position for Jameson's best friend in the galaxy, judging by how far above and beyond he had gone in this one gesture.

"You certainly have outdone yourself this time," said Jameson. The ship's doors opened with a blast of steam, and out walked the pilot who brought it in. He stood at the side of the door and gestured toward it for Jameson.

"Go on, give it a look," said Theron. Jameson wasted no time in running ahead to re-enter his old ship for the first time in 5 years.

Cluttered, cramped and just a bit too sanitized to really be comfortable. Just like home. There was so much Jameson wanted to check up on, to be sure Theron kept his word on making sure everything was the same. Were the clothes he kept on the ship still there? His lightsabers he earned from defeated Sith? But at the top of his list was one thing. And it was in a compartment under his bed in his quarters. Jameson practically tore off the metal floor panel as Theron and T7 came in to watch him. "What are you looking for?" asked Theron.

"I always anticipated the possibility that something would happen to separate my crew. In case that happened, I made sure to implant their holocomms with a tracking beacon. Just in case I ever needed them for anything after we went our separate ways. Ah, here it is." Jameson pulled out a small cylindrical device with a red button on the tip. He looked over at T7, who bleeped in joy. "T7, let's get the band back together!" Jameson pressed the button, causing his and T7's holocomms to rhythmically beep.

"So, we'll be able to find them now?" Theron asked.

Jameson stood up and nodded. "I just hope they're alright…"

* * *

Another day on Alderaan, another over ambitious noble who started ANOTHER blood feud. And here he was, Archiban "Doc" Kimble, as usual, caught in the middle because the powers that be forgot that there were innocent and very flammable civilians in between their fortresses. He had just finished patching up one of those aforementioned civilians when he heard an odd noise from his coat, which he had hung on a nearby armchair. The noise came from a pocket inside the coat: Doc's holocomm pocket. Doc stood there listening to it in shock before tripping over himself to get to it. He tore the coat from where it hung and dug through the pocket until he found it. His holocomm beeped in a very specifically tuned pattern. Specially modified so that it couldn't be mistaken for any other sound. Doc stared blankly down at the holocomm until his eyes caught fire. He threw his coat on and spun on his heel, heading for the door. "Where are you going?" asked one of the patients.

"To pick up that holo," Doc replied.

"W-what?"

"Because I friggin called it!" he shouted before throwing open the doors and running out.

* * *

Fideltin Rusk had spent the past five years waking up with hangovers in very strange places. Sometimes it was various parts of his ship, sometimes the center of whatever den of thieves and killers he was razing to ash that day. But most days, it was his small, one room walk-up on Nar Shadaa. From a shining, well-oiled Jedi Cruiser to the most dingy, degenerate hole in the galaxy. Leading a cabal of murderers, traitors and god knows what else against hutt cartel loyalists and criminal syndicates when Rusk knew firsthand the real evil out there. "Be patient" said supreme chancellor Kalesh, but every moment he was "patient", someone somewhere was dying. He sat up, placing his face in his hands, as those words rang through his mind, and brought back memories of home, of his pacifistic family. How they would watch every atrocity committed against them and make him swear never to fight back. No matter how ungodly the crime being committed before him.

 _Never again,_ he always told himself when these thoughts came to haunt him. How fortunate he was to meet a young Jedi who shared those beliefs. Rusk chuckled humorlessly. Jameson really was one-in-a-million. And the galaxy repaid him by killing him. Typical. He looked up, at the mirror across from his bed, framed over a bowl filled with water on top of a stool, where he shaved every morning. All he could see was Kira's face when she saw the ship Jameson was on go down. He had consoled too many grieving families for him to count and stay emotionally stable, but she outdid them all. She was a Jedi, so she must have _felt_ it. He lost track of how long he spent holding her. He never saw her again after the crew broke up on that rainy day on Coruscant 3 years ago. That poor girl deserved some damn peace.

Rusk was then broken from his thoughts by a beeping under his bed. The day Rusk first heard that beep, he trained himself to recognize it instantly, in case it ever came in handy. Rusk slowly crept down under his bed and pulled out a dusty old box. In it, he found his old holocomm igniting with light, emitting the beeping noise. If he hadn't felt his heart beating faster than it had in years, he would've assumed he was dreaming. But it was real. Jameson was alive.

And it was high time he got back to work.

* * *

It was widely believed that Mustafar was a gateway into some kind of hellish fire dimension, given how the lava flow and raging blazes never seemed to end. While inhospitable to everyone else, this hellscape provided the perfect secluded place for Lord Scourge to wait for the next turn of history. He sat there, meditating. Waiting. His holocomm went off. A smile crawled along his face as he stood up.

Jameson had returned. Took him long enough.

* * *

If you were to travel outside of Corellia's bustling cities, far away from where most would consider civilized society. Far away from where the eternal empire paid closest attention, at least these days, you had the smallest inkling of a chance to come across a small, blown out bunker. This bunker's roof had fallen in from a recent battle against an overwhelming force. If you were to find a way inside, the story would continue, as you would see the rotting corpses of armed soldiers of varying races. Knocked down walls, blown out turret encampments, and the occasional fried zakuul skytrooper littered the cramped, narrow halls. And if you kept walking, you would hear a soft beeping sound. The sound would emanate from further down into the underground base. Were your curiosity to get the better of you, you would eventually find the source in an underground hangar bay with blasted open doors. And in the center of the hangar, you would find a small Jedi holocomm, beeping into the dark, desolate silence. With no owner around to speak of…


	4. Serenity

The biggest downside to mainly living in space was that when there was nothing to do, there was NOTHING to do. Nothing but to lay about and wait for another sith to threaten the universe again. Every now and then, a call would come in to check up on them, and to ask why Jameson and Kira didn't just come back to Tython if they were so bored out in space.

The answer was simple: finding a safe place to make love on a planet filled with ultra conservative Jedi was quite difficult.

As such, the lovers kept to the ship whenever they desired alone time. The rest of the crew knew how to read the room, and knew when the two Jedi secretly wanted them off the ship ASAP. So here Jameson was, laying on his side in his quarters, watching the love of his life sleep next to him. Her beautiful naked body was concealed beneath the blankets, and her tussled red-orange hair fell over her adorable, smiling face. He couldn't resist stroking the hair out of his lover's face, feeling her soft porcelain skin against his red, bony fingers. What did he ever do to deserve her? He still had no idea how she became so interested in him. Jameson chuckled to himself as he laid back on the bed, hands behind his head.

Their first kiss was awkward on his end in ways he didn't even know he was capable of. Jameson was fumbling over himself at every possible turn, while she remained calm and sly as always. It was about a month before they followed up on those events, at which point Jameson had come to terms with how he felt about her.

He knew, even back then, that he was deeply in love with her. He'd even go so far as to say he had always loved her. Which made his memories of being a thrall of the emperor all the more painful. His hand stilled on her face as the memories came back. Watching her being interrogated by the sith with, he shuddered to think, joy. Joy at the sight of his love being broken down by monstrous sith. To think that such action would've continued had master Orgus not intervened from beyond the grave to break him free. And just in time, considering that not five minutes later he was asked to personally torture Kira for information. If they weren't on borrowed time, he would've broken down holding Kira after freeing her.

But they did escape, they stopped the emperor, and now they could rest like this every day. Kira began to stir awake. Jameson sat up and kissed her on the cheek as her eyes fluttered open. "Good morning," he whispered.

She smirked that coy little smirk that he loved so much and chuckled groggily. "You sure it's morning?" she asked. "I mean, it's pretty hard to tell."

Jameson shrugged. "It's morning somewhere, I'm sure." The two leaned into each other and kissed deeply. After separating, Jameson rested his forehead against hers. "I love you," he said softly, for her only.

Kira chuckled once more and kissed him on the nose. "There you go again. You know, I work so hard on this sarcastic tough girl routine, and you just demolish it in three words."

Jameson winked. "One of my many talents."

"I'll say." Kira rolled on top of him and wrapped her arms around his neck as they kissed some more. Though around the same age, Jameson, being a Sith Pureblood, was considerably taller and broader than Kira. Kira leaned into Jameson's ear and whispered. "I love you more, tough guy."

Jameson held Kira as tight as he could without hurting her. He internally swore over and over to never let anything happen to her, or the life they would have together. Whoever would dare to take either of those away would have to kill him 1,000,000 over before he would let that happen.

Just then, a sharp beeping sound came from the other end of the ship. It was the holoterminal, someone was calling. Kira's laugh was muffled by his neck, in which her face was nuzzled. "You get it, I don't think my legs are gonna be working properly for the next few days." Jameson groaned under his breath, rose from his bed and donned his robes. He did not plan on putting on pants today…

Jameson walked to the holoterminal room, its bright lights combined with the light of the holoterminal blinding him for a moment after hours of quiet darkness. The holoterminal buzzed with life, and from its crater-esque top rose a hologram of Darth Marr. Jameson, who hadn't seen or heard from Darth Marr since the incident with Revan, was taken aback by the appearance. "M-Marr?" he said before composing himself.

"Master Taleron," Marr said with a greeting nod. "Gather your crew and make for Wild Space. We have a problem that needs solving _now_."


End file.
